


Humbuggery

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s02e20 Humbug, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-04
Updated: 2006-01-04
Packaged: 2019-04-28 04:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Everyone has to grow up sometime.





	Humbuggery

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

Title: Humbuggery 

Author: mimic117 

Email: 

Rating: NC-17 

Category: S, Written for the Fandomonium Virtual Seasons of Smut challenge - http://www.fandomonium.com/challenges/xffics/vss.htm 

Spoilers: Up through the very end of Humbug 

Summary: Everyone has to grow up sometime. 

Archive: I'll do Gossamer and Ephemeral myself, but anyone else who wants it is free to filch at will. Just let me know where so I can gloat. 

Disclaimer: These characters belong to CC and Co, although they were never generous enough to give us this on the show. 

Thanks: To my Twinsy, Supreme High Bitch of the Betas, for earning her title with her razor sharp shredder and for laughing in all the right places. I'm gonna crown her one day, too. 

Dedication: To Laura, in hopes that this will give her a muchneeded laugh. It's not SP!M, but maybe it'll do for now. 

Feedback: Is printed out, fawned over and stroked to tatters at 

Visit all my fics at the little house that XochiLuvr built. http://www.mimicsmusings.com  
Your depravity levels may vary. 

* * *

Humbuggery  
by mimic117 

Dr. Blockhead finished tying his belongings to the roof of his Volkswagen and stepped back. 

"And you never will again. Twenty-first century genetic engineering will not only eradicate the Siamese twins and the alligator-skinned people, but you're going to be hard-pressed to find a slight overbite or a not-so-high cheekbone. You see, I've seen the future and the future looks... just like him." 

Scully followed his pointing finger to where her partner stood near one of the trailers. Hands on hips, one foot resting on a step, Mulder looked like a romantic hero of classic poetry or fiction as he gazed off into the distance, his dark hair ruffled by the breeze, chiseled profile emphasizing the stern set of his jaw. All he needed was a hand tucked between the buttons on his dress shirt and he'd look like George Washington crossing the Delaware. 

"Imagine going through your whole life looking like that." Blockhead continued talking, but Scully's brain had switched to autopilot -answer mode while she considered his last statement. 

Yeah. She could imagine it. Maybe not the part about going through life looking like Mulder, but she could definitely imagine going through the rest of _her_ life with a man who looked like that. Lately, it was becoming harder and harder NOT to imagine it. After everything they'd been through together, and especially after Mulder's determined efforts to bring her back from her coma just a few months ago, she'd been thinking about it -- a lot. 

A relationship. With Mulder. Her partner who was rapidly becoming indispensable to her. Would it work? _Could_ it work? Was it even a good idea? 

And why couldn't she stop thinking about it? 

Mulder's approach shook Scully out of her disturbing contemplation just as Dr. Blockhead said, "Maybe some mysteries were never meant to be solved." He climbed into the driver's seat of the car and turned the key. 

How could you not want to solve a mystery? Isn't that what they were there for? 

"What's the matter with your friend?" Mulder asked as he peered into the passenger window. 

"I don't know what his problem is," Blockhead answered. "Maybe it's the Florida heat." 

Now that Scully thought about it, the strangely-tattooed man did look a little off-color. She leaned down, too. "Hope it's nothing serious." 

The Conundrum opened his eyes. "Probably something I ate." 

As Blockhead and the Conundrum drove off, Scully turned to Mulder at the same time that he turned to her. In his eyes, she read the dawning realization of an idea that had only just occurred to her as well. 

"He couldn't have!" Mulder exclaimed. "Could he?" 

"I don't see how it would be physically possible. I mean, Leonard isn't exactly a cricket." 

After a moment of silence, he straightened his shoulders, adjusted his tie and said, "Come on. Let's check the funhouse again." 

"Why?" 

He was already moving away and she had to trot to catch up with his long strides. 

"Because it has all kinds of nooks and hidey-holes. Maybe Leonard went back in there after we saw him outside." 

The Tabernacle of Terror wasn't very frightening once you knew its secrets. They both drew their weapons as a matter of course, but Scully had a sneaking suspicion there wouldn't be anything to shoot at. 

Unless she shot her own foot out of sheer nervous tension. 

This entire case had made her jumpy. She kept expecting someone to leap out of a hidden door or tap her on the shoulder when she wasn't looking. The fact that Leonard _might_ still be on the loose was a further cause for concern and served to heighten her already jangling senses. There just wasn't any way to be one-hundred-percent sure what happened to him without evidence. And if what she and Mulder suspected was true, their evidence was currently hightailing it out of town to safer pastures. 

Her twitchy nerves weren't going to settle down anytime soon, unfortunately. Ever since Blockhead, aka Jeffrey Swaim, had drawn her attention to Mulder, she'd become hyper-aware of her partner's every move. To make matters even worse, Mulder was sticking to her side like a Siamese twin. She couldn't turn around without bumping into his chest, brushing against his ass or stepping on his foot. 

The Hall of Mirrors nearly did her in. 

She stooped to check out the broken mirror again, and when she stood up, he was right behind her -- reflection after reflection, one Mulder after another, stretching to infinity. Dozens of sets of hazel eyes seemed to glow with tender affection. An equal number of full, parted lips fluttered her hair with their warm breath. If she reached up and pulled his head down to her shoulder, she could watch herself kiss those lips over and over and over again. 

Desire blazed through Scully's veins, almost overwhelming her good judgment. She refrained from following through on her daydream by an act of sheer will-power. Resisting the urge to throw her partner on the floor and screw him senseless left her weak, sweaty, shaken and with a sudden desire to race to the museum, throw herself into Barnum's Great Unknown trunk and slam the lid. 

It would be worth the extra five dollars. 

It soon became obvious that Leonard wasn't anywhere inside the funhouse. Or outside the funhouse. Or in any of the trailers, the jail, the diner, the late Mr. Nutt's office, Hepcat's studio or even Lanny's former home. The twin simply wasn't anywhere, which Sheriff Hamilton took great pains to point out several times, while making increasingly outrageous speculations as to where Leonard might be. 

Scully couldn't blame the Sheriff for his frustration and annoyance with them. Especially after Mulder shared his theory. Even knowing The Conundrum's claim to fame, Hamilton couldn't bring himself to accept the possibility that he had eaten Leonard. 

Conceding defeat, Mulder and Scully retired to their respective trailers -- he elated over the possibility of having met a real cannibal; she thankfully relieved to be putting some space between herself and the object of her attraction. 

Even his ghoulish exuberance was turning her on. 

Scully threw herself on the miniscule bed, fully clothed. She couldn't make up her mind whether she was more in need of a nap or a shower. It was still light outside, but they'd spent a good part of the night looking for Leonard before giving up and going to bed. It seemed as though she'd been asleep for only a few minutes, not several hours, when Sheriff Hamilton rousted them out to resume the search. Half a day later, she was not only tired and dirty, but drained. Being horny expended a lot of energy! 

So, nap or shower? Shower or nap? Both would be more fun with company, but that wasn't an option. 

And she really needed to quit thinking about it. 

She had decided in favor of a shower when a knock rattled her trailer door. It was Mulder, dressed in jersey shorts and a t-shirt, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

"I'm gonna take a run, Scully. You want to come with me?" 

Yeah, she'd like to "come" with him. 

Good lord, what was the matter with her? She couldn't remember a time when she'd been affected so strongly by a man's every word or gesture. Hopefully it was hormonal and would go away soon. 

Still, Mulder's offer was tempting. She could run behind him and watch the play of his ass muscles under the loose jersey. Or she could run next to him and sneak peeks at his heaving chest and straining thighs. Considering the way her blood pressure and heart rate were on the rise just thinking about it, Scully decided she couldn't handle the real thing. 

"I think I'll pass this time, Mulder. But thanks." 

"You sure?" He grinned. "I'll show you the fish I saw Puzzle Man eating. I'll bet it's still sitting on the shore where he dropped it." 

She wrinkled her nose. "Gee, I'm not sure how I can resist such an invitation, but I'm afraid I must. I'm gonna take a shower and work on my report." 

"Come with me. I'll help you get sweaty so you'll have a real excuse for a shower." He waggled his eyebrows. 

Damn him! She really could have done without all the images that were suddenly flashing through her brain. She was going to end up sweaty enough to need a shower whether she went running with him or not. 

"Maybe next time." She couldn't help wondering if the smile she gave him looked as strained and hesitant as it felt. 

He shook his head. "Your loss, partner. You don't know what you're missing." Mulder took off running before she could answer, which was probably just as well. 

With the way she was feeling, she might have yanked him inside her trailer and tossed him on the bed. She _did_ know what she was missing and regret was already setting in. 

Scully closed the trailer door a little more firmly than necessary and moved over to the window at the end of the bed. Nobody was on the trampoline, but she decided to pull the curtains closed anyway. She looked through the window just in time to see Mulder jog over the top of a rise and out of sight. 

Why couldn't she release her iron control every once in a while? Go running with Mulder. What would it hurt? Trade innuendoes with him. She knew how to sling them, she just chose not to. And why? Because she wanted to look like a professional. She didn't want him to think of her as a sex object. 

And apparently she'd been successful. 

What a depressing thought. 

Time for that shower. 

While the water was heating in the miniscule bathroom, Scully stripped off her clothes. Clouds of steam were billowing from the tiny doorway by the time she stepped into the stall and closed the curtain. 

She sighed in pleasure as hot needles of water stung her back and tingled her nerves. This was what she needed. Well, one of the things she needed, anyway. When she turned for the shampoo, spears of droplets stabbed her nipples and set off an ache deep in her belly. 

Okay, so she needed _that_ as much as a shower. It would have to wait until she was finished, though. Inhaling water while in the throes of orgasm tended to put a damper on the entire experience. Plus the stall was barely big enough to wash in without fracturing an elbow on the walls or faucets -- never mind doing anything more energetic. 

Scully didn't know whether to laugh or cry that she knew these things firsthand. The saddest part was that she'd been alone each time she'd learned those lessons. Just like now. 

Well, alone except for her fantasy lover. A handsome, strong, virile, nebulous figure, he'd been with her since her teenage years, ever since Missy explained exactly what boys and girls did together and why it was so much fun. Once Scully had discovered the fun for herself, she was never without a man to give her pleasure, even if she was between relationships and he was only in her mind. He was one of the few girlish indulgences she still permitted herself. 

Scully shut off the tepid water and pulled back the shower curtain. She toweled off with a small square of management-provided cloth that felt like sandpaper on her sensitized skin. Taking the second towel from the rack, she walked back out to the bed. Once sweatpants and t-shirt were dragged over tired limbs, she spread the extra towel on her pillow and crawled onto the bed, snuggling in gratefully. But the more she tried to relax and fall asleep, the more her mind refused to give up on her other need. She kept trying to force one lurid fantasy after another into a dark corner of her psyche only to have them ooze out around the edges. 

Apparently, she wasn't going to get any rest until her libido was satisfied. Fine. As jumpy as she'd been all day, it shouldn't take long. 

She rolled onto her back and got comfortable. Pillows nicely fluffed... or as fluffed as flat-as-cardboard pillows ever got. Check. Mind open and ready for input. Check. Body relaxed. Not really, but that was okay. If she was too relaxed, she'd fall asleep and she already knew that wasn't going to happen yet. 

So which fantasy today? That was never a hard choice. She always started with the ol' tried and true pirate scenario. Too many readings and movie renditions of The Sea Hawk, Treasure Island and Captain Blood were probably to blame for that one. If, for some reason, it didn't work, she had a few others on which to fall back. There was one big advantage to being a bookworm -- a good imagination. 

Scully closed her eyes and slid a hand under her t-shirt. On second thought, she cracked one eye open and checked the curtains again. Good. Still closed. She might not be able to hide her indelicate activity from herself, but she didn't need anyone else observing it. 

Actually, that might make an interesting fantasy of its own... 

But back to the high seas. She pushed her other hand beneath the waistband of her pants, fingers tickling lightly into her curls, seeking the pulsing bundle of nerves waiting there, and closed her eyes again. 

~The ship was being boarded. Sailors in knee breeches ran back and forth on the deck of the full-rigged schooner, repelling the pirate scum who swarmed over the sides. Miss Dana Scully, traveling to join their father in Jamaica, trembled in horror as the brave crew was cut down, one man after another. Sabers and knives glinted in the sunlight as they flashed to their bloody work. Most ferocious of all was the pirate captain.~ 

Scully pinched her nipple and felt the burn start between her legs. 

~Tall, dark-haired and bronzed by the sun, the bare-chested, barefoot brigand laid about him with a cutlass that dripped blood. Good sailors -- honest, true men -- fell before the might of his devilish blade. As he advanced determinedly in Dana's direction, she frantically searched for a place to hide. But there was none. She was trapped by barrels on the one side and the sea on the other. Her only hope was to jump, but even if she survived the plunge, her sodden crinolines would surely drag her down to a watery grave. Still, drowning might be preferable to the burning lust she could see reflected in the pirate captain's hard, hazel eyes.~ 

She pressed on her clit and bit off a moan as her whole body shivered. 

~Far too soon, the cruel, handsome buccaneer stood in front of her, his muscular, naked chest heaving and shiny with sweat. One untamed lock of chestnut hair had escaped his thick braid and tumbled over his forehead, almost into his eyes. Gold hoops dangling from his ears winked in the glaring light, mocking her with their bright gleam. As the losing battle raged on about them, the sea wolf threw down his gore-spattered blade only to catch her up in his arms and crush her to his chest. 

Dana read his intentions in his eyes -- she was his now. She cringed as he stroked her flaming tresses with the same hand which had just murdered her shipmates. 

"Let go of me, you hateful dog," she demanded. She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, but it trembled in spite of her valiant efforts. Her struggles to break free just caused him to laugh, his bright teeth flashing white against his sun-browned skin. 

"Never," he growled. "You belong to me." His voice was velvet-soft but gravelly, like thick molasses meandering over stones underfoot. It made her shiver from head to toe, but not in fright. She hoped he couldn't tell the effect he was having on her. 

"What are you planning to do with me, you brute?" Her voice came out more breathy than she would have liked. Dana steeled herself against his abhorrent presence as the pirate brought his face close to hers. 

"Hey Scully, you wanna go to my ship and play doctor?" He waggled his eyebrows.~ 

Scully's eyes popped open. 

What the hell? That wasn't supposed to happen! 

She panted as the light sheen of sweat she'd worked up rapidly cooled in the air-conditioned trailer. Mulder had never shown up in her fantasies before! What was going on? 

Scully took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Okay. No need to panic. Maybe she just needed a different scene today. Yeah, that was it. A different one. She settled back into the pillow and tried to relax again. 

Let it all out, she told herself. Let it go. Start over. 

The Jungle Man fantasy. That was always good. She'd read all the Tarzan books at one time and really loved them. The various movies were okay, but not nearly as good as the books. Except for George of the Jungle. The movie was silly, but Brendan Fraser was hot. 

She closed her eyes again. 

~Dana Scully surveyed the towering jungle trees and realized that she was lost. The only noises which penetrated the brilliant green canopy were those of nature, not man. She didn't think that she'd been following the colorful parrot for long, but now she had no idea where to find the return path to camp. 

A rustling to one side set her heart racing. Was it a monstrous cat, lurking in the brush? She had no weapon with which to defend herself. She was at the mercy of whatever savage beasts roamed this impenetrable forest.~ 

Yes, much better. Scully wiggled her hips in anticipation. 

~The thick leaves on her left parted, to reveal a face. It was a man, but not anyone that Dana knew. He was not a member of her expedition, but he was definitely human. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders, waving over his forehead and ears in a soft cascade. His hazel eyes remained locked on her as he stepped out from behind his leafy cover. Dana tried to control her trembling limbs as he slowly crept forward, but she could feel her knees quaking harder the closer he approached. 

He wasn't like any man she had ever seen before. Bronzed skin covered tight, lean muscles all over his body. He wore no clothing, other than a flap of fabric low on his hips -- it barely covered him. His powerful legs and chiseled chest attested to the strength he could bring to bear against an enemy. His broad shoulders spoke of hours climbing the treetops, or perhaps swinging through the branches the way she'd observed the apes traveling from place to place. 

His stunning, primitive beauty took her breath away.~ 

Scully squeezed her breast and sighed in anticipation. She always liked this next part best. 

~Dana didn't dare to run. She was certain that this wild man would be able to catch her before she'd gone more than a few yards. She remained as still as possible while he continued to venture forward warily. 

"Who are you?" she asked. 

The creature of the jungle stopped and cocked his head to the side. He seemed to take her words as an invitation, moving toward her more quickly. Within seconds, he was standing close beside her -- too close for Dana's comfort. 

"Do you have a name?" Her voice wavered disturbingly. 

He ignored her question, leaning toward her with a puzzled expression on his face. Suddenly, he sniffed deeply and closed his eyes. He smiled softly before opening them again and gazing at her in delight. His long fingers reached to stroke her flame-colored hair, snagging the delicate strands with his coarse skin as he petted her head. His hand moved down to her shoulders, rubbing the fabric of her blouse between his thumb and forefinger, then smoothing it over her arm again. His hand skimmed over her breast, causing her nipple to harden and strain against her chemise. He extended his finger toward the tight peak as if to touch it again. Dana stepped back, away from his inflaming caress. 

The silent man raked her with his gaze. He studied her boots for several minutes, crouching to touch the smooth leather. He even picked up one of her feet to inspect the heels, unbalancing Dana and forcing her to rest a hand on his head to avoid falling. He jumped up and grabbed her hand, holding it prisoner while he studied each side of it before comparing it to his own, much larger one. 

Still holding her hand captive, he walked around behind her. Dana remained still, not sure what he intended but sure in her heart that he meant her no harm. His free hand caressed her back, trailing down her blouse to her long, full skirt. She could feel his warm breath against the back of her neck and shivered at the innocent contact. 

The sensation of his hand stroking her derriere didn't seem so innocent. She stiffened in protest and was about to turn around when he spoke. 

"You wearing a thong under there, Scully?"~ 

GAH! Not again! 

Scully flipped onto her stomach and pounded the pillow. It wasn't fair! All she wanted was some relief so she could sleep. WHY did Mulder have to keep showing up and ruining things? All day, every day, in close contact with him, listening to him, being touched by him, seeing him, _smelling_ him -- she should at least be able to get away from him in her daydreams! 

It wasn't like she had other outlets right now. It just wasn't fair. 

Was the fantasy the problem? Did she need a different one? Again? 

She searched her brain for something that might work better with her partner in the starring role, in case he made another appearance. 

Years of watching western movies with her father when he was home on leave had resulted in an early attraction to cowboys. Maybe she should use The Mysterious Stranger. Mulder would make a great cowboy. He looked fantastic in jeans, and he sometimes wore buttondown casual shirts that were a lot like cowboy shirts. She couldn't quite imagine him in boots and spurs, but that was the least of her concerns. A cowboy hat to shade his eyes and give him a dangerous air, a six-shooter slung low around his hips and maybe even a pair of well-worn chaps -- Scully could really get into that particular scene. 

But if things followed what had already happened today, he'd probably ruin it by opening his mouth and asking her to check out the local cattle mutilations. 

Scully sighed. She'd been using these fantasies for years and they'd always been enough to get her in the right mood when she really needed the help. What had gone wrong? 

Wait a minute. 

Was that it? She'd been using the same fantasies off and on since she was a teenager. In the intervening years, she'd been through medical school. Become an FBI agent. She'd probably worn a gun more often than her shadowy cowboy. 

She had outgrown her youthful daydreams, she realized. Mulder was the one she wanted now. It wasn't his fault that he would never speak or act like her romance-novel men. He was Mulder -- he had to be himself, even when he wriggled his way into the figments of her sexual imagination. 

So what should she do? Forget make-believe and start a relationship with Mulder? 

She snorted. Fantasies aside, she knew there was no way they could indulge in a physical relationship at this point. It would be messy, complicated -- there were other, larger considerations at work. She couldn't think of one off-hand, but she knew they were there. She was doing the right thing by not giving in to her need for more. 

So why did it feel so wrong? 

A trailer door slammed with a muffled thud and she realized that Mulder was back. She hadn't heard him return, even though he was probably pacing outside for a few minutes to cool down. He always did that when he came back from a run. After many months of witnessing his little rituals, she knew him well enough to be able to picture the exact chronology of his actions. 

Once inside the trailer, he'd kick off his shoes by the door, strip out of his sweat-stained t-shirt and toss it in the general direction of the bed. Then he would turn on the hot water in the shower before peeling off his socks and shorts. Was he wearing boxer briefs underneath, or a jock strap? Scully decided on boxers. She'd seen Mulder in stretch briefs and she liked the way they molded to _every_ part of him. 

Besides, he didn't seem like a jock strap kind of guy. She'd run with him before and would be willing to bet the kind of "action" she'd witnessed didn't happen in a jock strap. So, back to the boxers. 

A promising tingle started between her legs. Maybe there was still hope. 

She pictured his underwear (it was dark blue) sailing out the bathroom door, then she settled on her back, one hand caressing the cool skin of her breast, the other feathering over her abdomen. 

She'd never tried to fantasize using something as tame and normal as a shower scenario. Didn't that defeat the purpose of a fantasy? But maybe it was time to set aside her youthful imaginings for something a bit more realistic. This felt right. Familiar. Something to which she could relate because she'd heard the sounds so many times before, in motel rooms all over the country. There was comfort in knowing someone as well as she knew Mulder; a sense of exclusiveness that didn't leave room for anyone else. Not even shadowy former lovers. It was just her and her partner and an as-yet-forbidden wish for something more. 

She had no intentions of letting guilt eat at her for using him, either. Mulder had magazines and videos he used for relief. He probably even had other means that she didn't care to think about. Why shouldn't she utilize what worked best for her to achieve the same outcome? He seemed like the type of man who wouldn't get upset by being the object of someone's lustful thoughts. He might even enjoy it. Maybe he'd get a thrill from knowing the kinds of activities she invented for them in her daydreams. 

Maybe, someday, she'd get to share them with him. 

Imaginary shampoo bubbles trailed down Mulder's back, trickling through the crease of his ass, over his thighs, down the backs of his knees. Scully clenched her legs together and tweaked her nipple. She was already closer to coming than she'd been all night and she hadn't even turned him around in the shower yet. 

A hot wave of anticipation made her stomach muscles tighten and she moaned. 

Why hadn't she ever thought of this before? 

* * *

**THE END**

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Title: **Humbuggery**  
Author: mimic117  
Details: 26k  ·  NC-17  ·  Standalone  ·  01/04/06  ·   Email/Website      
Gossamer Category(Keywords): Story   [UST]     
Characters: Mulder/Scully     
Pairings: Mulder/Scully UST   
SPOILERS: Post-episode: Humbug   
SUMMARY: Everyone has to grow up sometime.   



End file.
